Fair Day

I woke up with a thundering headache this afternoon, as you already know, and literally trembled as I walked the agonizing 20 or so steps (16. I just counted.) from my bed to my desk. I was hoarse, sore, tired, hung over and miserable, in a number of ways. I needed a bath, for one thing, but also much water, Advil (as you correctly advised) and something in my stomach. I also had a vile taste in my mouth, which I will colorfully attribute to the metaphorical death of something within it. But before addressing any of these concerns, I was desperate to know if you'd called, or written or IMed, or read any of the things I had sent you last night or made a blog for us. So I struggled (valiantly, you should have seen it) to reach the computer and forced myself to endure the too-bright glare of the screen just to see if you'd been thinking of me. I was comforted to discover that you had done all of the above things and more.

It's been raining here all day. The sky is dark, and I had to turn on a lamp just to see the keys of my laptop, and even though the weather is warm, the dampness caused me to have a bit of a chill, which the pennies on the floor haven't helped. But in spite of the weather and my physical state, I have to say that today was a fair day. As beautiful as if the sun had been shining. I wasn't expecting it, nor the phone call, nor any of this, really, but I'm glad for it. Ever so glad, in fact, if you'll allow me the Jan Brady-esque outburst. Talking to you, laughing with you, getting to know you and working with you is exciting and fun and ... new. It's filling me with love and light and making me feel more human, more real and more alive. I was sad that this day had to come to an end, but I'm hopeful, and hopefully not foolishly so.